“Good. I will suppress my cultivation to your level then,” Yuan Rang said and walked a short distance away.
When he turned back, he had drawn his jian, the scabbard disappearing into his storage ring. Yuan Rang’s breathing slowed down and an unseen pressure faded as his breathing evened out. Even Wu Ying could tell that Yuan Rang had actually done as he had said he would.
“Senior?” Wu Ying said, puzzled. Still, with a naked sword pointed at him, Wu Ying automatically drew his own. Against such a strong opponent, a draw strike would be too slow.
“I have been contemplating a new martial skill for my jian. It is time that I tested it out,” Yuan Rang said. “Try not to die too fast.”
Wu Ying’s eyes widened as he raised his sword to block the sudden lunge. Even with his cultivation suppressed, Yuan Rang was blindingly fast, the lunge he had used covering the ground between them in a blink of an eye. Wu Ying stumbled backward, his back foot spraying pebbles as he finally regained his footing. His left hand landed on his right, steadying it and stopping the shaking in his weapon’s blade even as the ache in Wu Ying’s hand subsided. A single strike and Wu Ying had almost lost his jian and his head.
“Decent. But you have not achieved the Sense of the Sword fully yet, have you?” Even as he spoke, Yuan Rang circled Wu Ying, his sword lazily dipping and circling.
“No, Senior,” Wu Ying said as he automatically moved in the same direction as Yuan Rang, keeping the distance open with the footwork he had learnt. The Sense of the Sword was the first true level of understanding the sword—or any weapon really.
At the most basic level, anyone could use a sword by picking it up. But at that stage, most users saw the sword as a tool—a powerful, deadly, sharp tool. But they would not be able to use it to the full extent and would, in effect, treat the jian in their hand the same as they would a dao or a hooked sword or even an axe.
Those who used a jian long enough—or any weapon—would gain a Sense of the weapon. Not just its weight and reach, though obviously that was important, but an understanding about the jian as a weapon. Its advantages and disadvantages compared to other weapons, the most common attacks for the weapon and its true benefits. At this stage, minute differences in each weapon no longer bothered the wielder. The next level was the Heart of the Sword, where a wielder no longer felt the sword was a weapon, an external tool, but a portion of their body. As for the reputed Soul of the sword, the wielder would no longer need a jian to replicate the weapon itself.
“Long family jian style. And some other footwork.” Yuan Rang hummed then smiled thinly. “Let us find out.”
Once again, Yuan Rang crossed the distance between them in a second, his sword flashing. Wu Ying met the attack as quickly as he could, battling the stronger opponent with everything that he had. Yet deep within, Wu Ying knew he was going to lose. Even with his cultivation suppressed, Yuan Rang’s body was strengthened significantly through the cleansing and opening of all his major meridians. On top of that, Yuan Rang was at least at the Heart of the Sword. Even his own father had barely touched the edges of that realm.
In a half dozen more blows, Wu Ying knew with sick certainty that Yuan Rang was holding back. And not just a little. In his fight with Yin Xue, Wu Ying had known that Yin Xue had achieved the Sense of the Sword already. Even so, Wu Ying had had the feeling he was only slightly behind the other, close enough to see Yin Xue’s back. A figure he could reach, if he practiced hard enough.
Yuan Rang was a peak that he could not see. His skill and understanding of the jian, the esoteric movements of his blade and the casual strength each of his blows generated sent Wu Ying constantly stumbling back. In those half dozen blows, Wu Ying was certain that Yuan Rang was actually fighting outside the “normal” distance his style specialized in.
All this thinking came at a cost, as Wu Ying quickly found out. Another block, a quick wrist twist, and his sword flew from his hand, leaving Yan Rang’s jian resting against the hollow of his throat.
“Eight passes,” Yuan Rang said, shaking his head. “Pitiful. Pick up your sword. Let us begin again. Try to last until the fish are ready.”
“Senior.” Wu Ying bowed and scrambled to grab his fallen sword. He quickly checked it over before Wu Ying turned and took his guard again.
“If you do not improve, I cannot actually test my move properly,” Yuan Rang said scornfully. “Do try not to disappoint me again.”
“Yes, Senior.”
Yuan Rang’s only answer was a thrust, and the ring of blades once more erupted in the clearing.
It was late afternoon when the nearly non-stop sparring came to an end. If not for the frequent breaks that Yuan Rang allowed for eating and prepping and cooking more fish, Wu Ying was certain he would have fallen over already. The constant pressure of battle, the fast tempo of the fight, and the unceasing routine had combined to tire out Wu Ying’s mind, relaxing the tight control he had placed on his moving cultivation. Unconsciously, Wu Ying had begun to cultivate while moving and fighting. Not a lot, and it only helped boost his fighting ability a little while drawing in just a touch more chi than normal. Yet that was not the only gain Wu Ying received in the hours of sparring.
His Sense of the Sword had grown, expanding in leaps and bounds such that his initially shaky grasp of the Sense of the Sword had firmed and progressed. Wu Ying knew that he had reached a greater mastery of the sword and had perhaps even touched the peak mastery of the Sense. In effect, Wu Ying from now on would be able to pick up any jian and, within moments, use the weapon well—perhaps not to the peak of its ability but close to it. In a fight where inches and micro-seconds counted, Wu Ying would intuitively understand both the weight, heft, and strength required to wield the weapon.
“Rest and cultivate. We will fight one last time after that,” Yuan Rang said sternly.
Wu Ying’s eyes widened before he slowly nodded and went over to the water’s edge to do as ordered. As he cultivated, Wu Ying considered Yuan Rang’s style. Over the course of the afternoon, Yuan Rang had slowly exposed more and more of his native form, rather than using generic strikes that pressed Wu Ying. As such, Wu Ying now had a much broader understanding of Yuan Rang’s style. Yuan Rang fought upright, often staying within his opponent’s measure and using quick wrist motions to block attacks and land blindingly fast wrist cuts. When an opponent pulled back or left an opening, Yuan Rang would step forward in quick, fast lunges whose target shifted positions at the last moment. In effect, Yuan Rang’s was similar to the Long family style, though it used less footwork to create openings, instead relying on flexible wrists and arms and a high level of perception.
Of course, Wu Ying knew that what he was seeing was only a shallow depth to the style. It was obvious that the style and its usages changed when chi was projected through the weapon. As Yuan Rang was suppressing his cultivation, Wu Ying knew he would not have a chance to experience that particular portion of the style yet. For which he was extremely grateful.
“Ready?”
“Yes, Senior,” Wu Ying said and stood.
Wu Ying looked down at his sword, grimacing slightly. Truthfully, he would have preferred a few more minutes to work out some of the chips in the sword, bring back its sharpness. But Yuan Rang was not really asking, so Wu Ying set himself for another round of sparring.
The moment their blades clashed, Wu Ying knew this time was different. The speed that Yuan Rang was moving, the certainty in his attacks gave hint that this time, he was serious. For the first time, Wu Ying had a glimmer of understanding of why Yuan Rang had spent time sparring with him earlier. If Yuan Rang had unleashed his full potential at the start of the day, Wu Ying would not have even managed to last three passes.